


Input overload

by robokittens



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Clothed Sex, Hot Mess Richard Hendricks, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: Jared's hand ghosts over his shoulder, the lightest pressure through Richard's hoodie and the shirt underneath, and comes up to wrap around the back of Richard's neck. His fingers tangle in Richard's hair, and Richard lets out a long, jagged sigh.He's getting a fucking boner. From this, from nothing touches from someone who — someone who's way too good for him, has always been too good for him, too goodtohim. Who's here for some reason, in this house, in this bed.





	Input overload

**Author's Note:**

> whaddup sv fandom i come bearing slightly sad porn, what else is new
> 
> thank you to [reserve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve) for the cheerreading and the beta and for dragging me headlong into this fandom. ❤!!!
> 
> dubcon info in the end notes.

It's dark in his bedroom. Dark and safe, away from the glow of monitors and pressing expectations, darkest of all when he's tucked up against himself, up against the wall, face in his pillow. It's harder to breathe like this, but that's — maybe that's not a downside. Maybe it's not any harder than anything else. Maybe the only thing that comes easily is fucking up.

It hasn't been a worse day than any other day, lately. That's the worst part. It's not any worse, it's just — today he can't handle it. He just needs a fucking break.

Or maybe it was yesterday he couldn't handle. He doesn't remember when he got in bed, doesn't even know what time it is. Probably no one has even noticed that he's gone. Or they have, maybe, and they're glad. Able to get stuff done without their resident fuckup in the way.

He's supposed to be leading this company. He's supposed to be — he's supposed to — 

There's a soft knock on the door, and after a moment, the quiet creak of it opening. Jared's voice is quiet, but it almost echoes in the darkness: "Richard?"

"Mmph," Richard says into his pillow.

Jared says, voice still low, "I came to check on you. Do you mind if I —"

His hands come to rest on the bars of the lofted bed's ladder. The bed shakes, just slightly.

"Just." Richard raises his head from the pillow. "Just come up here."

There's a moment's pause, and then the ladder squeaks, the bed shifting, Jared climbing up. He hoists himself up and lands on Richard's feet.

"Ow!" Richard yelps, and the pressure on his feet ends abruptly; he can hear the sound of Jared's head hitting the ceiling. Jared lets out a soft hiss of pain, but he doesn't say anything.

Richard does. "Fuck. I'm sorry. Why — are you okay?"

"Just fine," Jared says, unperturbed. 

"Um," Richard says. He scoots up the bed, turning on his side and tucking his knees to his chest.

Jared sits back down. Richard can feel the heat of him, right there.

Neither of them say anything for a long, long moment, and then Jared says, finally, "are you still dressed?" Richard hadn't even noticed Jared's hand on his ankle, thumb rubbing circles on the bone there, until he'd said something. Somehow the contact seems — natural. Safe. The warm press of Jared's thumb through his sock, the rest of his hand butting up against the hem of Richard's jeans. 

Richard stutters out an affirmative. He clutches desperately around the worn strings of his hoodie.

"Oh, Richard," Jared murmurs, affectionate and sad at once. His voice is … kind, but Richard isn't sure how to reply. He stares at the wall, the way the thin light through the window reflects off the posters he's tacked up there. His eyes adjust, and he closes them again.

"Can you look at me?"

Richard doesn't open his eyes. "I _can_ ," he says; he knows he sounds petulant but he can't bring himself to care.

"I'm just going to —"

The bed shifts, and before Richard knows it Jared is lying down next to him. He opens his eyes after all, and Jared's are right there looking back at him. They're wide and concerned and Richard knows his own are red, blinking almost compulsively, probably showing too well that he's dead inside. He shuts them again. 

He wishes Jared's hand was still on his leg; that had felt good. He doesn't deserve good things. Jared is too good for him. Fuck.

" _Fuck_ ," he says aloud, an emphatic whisper. 

He curls up on himself without meaning to and it brings them back into contact, his head tucked into Jared's chest, their knees knocking. It's the most intimate he's been in someone in some time — in a long time, if he's being particularly honest, and he's been particularly honest with himself of late. 

Jared's hand ghosts over his shoulder, the lightest pressure through Richard's hoodie and the shirt underneath, and comes up to wrap around the back of Richard's neck. His fingers tangle in Richard's hair, and Richard lets out a long, jagged sigh. 

He's getting a fucking boner. From this, from nothing touches from someone who — someone who's way too good for him, has always been too good for him, too good _to_ him. Who's here for some reason, in this house, in this bed. 

The sob doesn't quite escape Richard's throat, but it's close.

"You should go," he says. His voice sounds flat even to him, a monotone that belies the way his shoulders shake.

"Is that what you want?" Jared asks. He sounds honestly curious, solicitous, fucking nice. His fingers stroke over Richard's hair, and Richard can't help the keening noise that slips past his lips.

Is that what he wants. What does he want, that's a loaded fucking question. He wants Pied Piper to succeed; he wants to be a capital-B billionaire. Millionaire would be acceptable. He want his schemes to not be harebrained for once, his plans not slapdash, to aim for success instead of stumbling into it. To be brilliant and always, always right.

Right now. Right now, he wants Jared to keep touching him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and doesn't say anything, just inches slightly closer to the warmth of Jared's form. Jared is still dressed, too, socks and slacks and a fleece vest over his button front shirt. It makes Richard feel more normal, just a little.

"I think," Jared says carefully, but Richard doesn't wait to find out what he thinks. He moves upward as quickly as he can, barely avoids knocking his head into Jared's chin, moves one shaking hand to cup Jared's cheek. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe, maybe, but Jared came to him, climbed into his bed, curled up next to him in the dark —

He presses his lips to Jared's. Or he tries to; it's mostly cheek, but his second attempt is more on point and Jared still hasn't moved, hasn't pushed him away. His hand has fallen out of Richard's hair and come to rest on his shoulder blade and Richard can feel the way his fingertips twitch there.

Is this okay, he starts to ask, means to ask, but before he can get the words out Jared is kissing him. Jared's lips press softly but firmly against his, and Richard feels his dick twitch in his pants. It's fucking pathetic, but he doesn't have the brainpower to process that right now. Jared is kissing him, kissing _him_. Their lips brush together, come apart, dry and slightly sticky. Richard licks his own lips and licks Jared's in the process, and he can feel Jared's fingers tighten on his shoulder.

His lips part. He can feel Jared's tongue against his teeth. His fingertips shake where they're pressed to Jared's face.

He sighs into it when Jared kisses him softly; breathes harshly when Jared lets him go. He doesn't move far, couldn't if he wanted to, not with the way Jared's hand has come to rest on the back of his neck. And he doesn't. Doesn't want to move. Except closer, maybe, his fingers spasming on Jared's face in an aborted attempt to pull him in. Jared bites at his lip. 

Richard's hips thrust erratically against nothing, his body jerking in ways he can't control, searching for contact. Jared shushes him, a soothing noise against his mouth, into his mouth. Richard licks his way past Jared's teeth, desperate. 

Jared's hand moves. Not the one curled in the dip of Richard's neck, no, that stays put; the one trapped between them. Traces down Richard's chest, fingers hot even through his t-shirt. Richard shivers.

"I'm going to touch you now," Jared whispers, and his breath is warm against Richard's face. Richard nods shakily.

"Is that alright?" Jared asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer before he presses the heel of his hand against Richard's dick. Richard whimpers. It's not the most dignified noise he's ever made, but even through his jeans, even through his boxers, this is the closest anyone's been to his dick in … a while.

Jared's fingers ghost up and down Richard's length, feeling out the shape of him, and Richard cants his hips up into it.

"So responsive," Jared says, and he chuckles a little, and Richard starts to curl in on himself again, pressing his head to Jared's shoulder. He bites his lip. It doesn't do much to stifle a moan. 

Jared's fingers move up and down. Up and down again. They move to the button of Richard's jeans and it's no surprise that Jared can undo a fly one-handed; Jared, he has long since proven, has all manner of talents.

If he's good at handjobs, Richard may never know. Jared hasn't even gotten his hand in Richard's pants when Richard's dick pulses and he's coming, Christ, coming before Jared even gets a hand on him.

"Oh God," Richard says. He muffles it into Jared's shoulder but there's no hiding the noise he makes, any more than he can hide the slow, wet mess seeping through the worn fabric of his jeans, under the gentle touch of Jared's hand. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, hot and humiliated.

"Oh _God_ ," he says again.

"Richard," Jared says tentatively, "did you —" Richard looks up at the sound, and even in the darkness, he can see Jared's eyes go wide.

"No!" Richard gasps. "Maybe. Yes."

Jared says his name again, softly, his hand moving down, his fingers stroking over Richard's knee. It feels like all of his nerve endings are concentrated there, right there, right where Jared's fingertips press into the denim. Richard lets out a whine.

"You're doing great," Jared says soothingly. Richard laughs, kind of coughs into it; of course Jared would give him a pep talk during sex. If this is sex. Oh, Jesus, he just came in his pants.

"Fuck," he says, " _fuck_."

He's just starting to get the apology out when Jared leans in and kisses him.

"I hope that's all right," Jared says when they pull apart, just far enough to breathe. Richard tips his forehead against Jared's. "To kiss you like that. I didn't mean to imply that you should be quiet. Of course you can say whatever you wa —"

Richard slides a hand around Jared's neck, grabs the short hair there as best as he can. Jared gasps, just a little.

"Shut up," Richard says, "shut up shut up," and fastens their mouths back together. He nips at Jared's bottom lip, again and again to hear the sound he makes. He knows he's making plenty of sounds himself, breathy and just on the edge of too loud. The bed might be making noises, too; he can't hear it over the hammering of his own heart.

"Move," Jared says against his lips, and for a heartstopping second Richard thinks, this is it, he's being kicked out of his own bed.

But then Jared is maneuvering them, shoving Richard's back up against the head of the bed with a strength that surprises Richard every time he displays it, and before Richard knows it Jared is peeling off his jeans. His boxers come with them, tacky with drying come, and his socks; he's half naked in his own bed and he feels stupid, so stupid, clutching ineffectively at his hoodie, and then Jared situates himself between Richard's bare legs, leans in and puts his mouth on Richard's dick.

Richard cries out, embarrassingly loud. Jared's tongue teases at the head, swirling just around it, flicking into the slit. Richard squirms, uncomfortably sensitive, Jared's light touch almost too much pressure. When Jared licks up the length of his dick,Richard moans, softly and then louder.

At this rate, everyone in the hostel is going to — going to know that he and Jared —

"Oh fuck," Richard breathes, and there's nothing sexual about his words, just a faint edge of hysteria, but Jared is nuzzling at the base of his dick, lapping at the hairs there as if he means to clean all the come off. Maybe he does. Shit, this is the hottest thing to happen to Richard in — a while. 

Jared takes Richard's dick into his mouth, and it's soft but he takes it all the way to the root and Richard all but shoves his own fist in his mouth. He can feel his dick jerk, can feel himself starting to get hard again in Jared's mouth.

"Stop," he says desperately, "stop, stop," and he pushes at Jared's shoulder but it takes a moment for Jared to pull off.

"Richard," he says, and he sounds so normal, slightly concerned like they're having a meeting, a quirk of his head and a twist to his lips. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Richard says, breathless. "Great. Fan — fan-fucking-tastic."

Jared beams at him. "Good!" He surges upward and kisses Richard again and Richard groans into it, at the force of the kiss and the faint unwashed bitter taste of his own skin, his own come, in Jared's mouth.

There's something strangely soothing about the taste, the familiar tang from when he'd delicately licked it off his fingers years ago, just to see; the way it tastes different delivered back to him. He sucks on Jared's tongue, licks his teeth, one of Jared's hands back in his hair and his own hands hesitant on Jared's shoulders, not quite pulling him in, not quite sure where to touch.

The sound their mouths make when Jared pulls away is somehow more lewd than anything else that's happened so far, loud in the still air.

Richard's eyes shut, his head tilting back to thunk against the wall, as Jared kisses his neck, bites softly at the underside of his chin, licks down the hollow of Richard's throat. He shoves Richard's t-shirt up around his armpits and kisses his way downward; Richard bites down on his own fingers again to keep himself from crying out when Jared's tongue laves over each of his nipples in turn.

It's not any individual sensation that has him so sensitive but the combination, so overwhelming that he has to blink back tears. It's all so much, maybe too much, and before Richard knows it Jared is back, gloriously terribly back, on his dick.

He doesn't even realize he’s hard again until Jared takes the head of his dick in his mouth, sliding slowly up and down the shaft, not quite taking all of him but that's good, probably good, Richard isn't sure he'd survive it if Jared started deep throating him now 

When Jared nudges his legs further apart he moves them willingly, when Jared sucks at the top of his dick he lifts his hips up, and when he feels the very tip of Jared's finger pressed against his asshole he's almost not surprised.

" _Jared_ ," he hisses, half a curse, and when Jared looks up at him through his lashes, lips stretched around Richard's dick, Richard very nearly comes again.

Jared swallows around him, and Richard comes after all. It _hurts_ , almost, but maybe that's the sting of the tears in his eyes, maybe it's the insistent pressure of Jared's finger against his ass. Jared's fingers are slick, somehow, improbably, where they press up against him, where one presses _inside_ him. 

It's a slow slide, Jared still lapping at his softening, oversensitive dick as he pushes a finger into Richard. It's just the one but it feels like three, feels like — like something Richard can't even bring himself to think about, not now. Not yet.

He almost gasps out Jared's name again, bites his lip to keep himself quiet. He half succeeds: "Ja —" he says, and when Jared moves to kiss him, his finger inside Richard quirks, and just for a moment Richard sees stars.

"Oh," he manages, "oh, do that —"

He can feel Jared's lips twist into a smile where they're pressed against his, and they're too close for Richard to see but he can picture the look on Jared's face, the proud smile of a job well done.

Jared's finger retreats but before Richard can say anything Jared presses in again with two fingers. He's unerring, unrelenting, hitting that spot inside Richard — his prostate, he knows it's his prostate, he knows how it works but he had no idea what it would _feel_ like — on every other stroke. 

It feels like too much, too big. It feels not unlike Jared’s taking him apart from the inside.

Well. Maybe that's what Richard needs. Maybe Jared can take him apart, can put him back together different. Better.

He isn't kissing Jared, not really, hasn't been for a while; their faces are pressed together and they're breathing in tandem but they're not kissing, and Jared's breath is hot against his face. Richard's fingers find purchase on Jared's cheeks and he angles them back together, breath shuddery as he guides Jared's lips back to his.

Jared's fingers don't stop. Long, slow strokes, and the suggestion of a third finger pressed against his hole, and Richard can feel the exact moment he gives up, gives in, lets the tears he's tried to hold back spill out. He's hard again, somehow, and he's crying, and Jared is kissing him. He can feel the tears pooling in the corners of his mouth. He can feel Jared catch them on the tip of his tongue.

Jared murmurs his name, he's almost sure of it, a quiet and reverential " _Richard_ " up against his lips.

"Are you crying," Jared whispers, and his voice is so loud in the dark and it doesn't sound like a question anyway, not one Richard has to answer. He squeezes his eyes shut but the tears leak out anyway. Jared licks at his cheekbones. Jared's fingers keep moving inside him; Richard is pretty sure it's three now, that they're up to three, that his dick is so hard it would be leaking if there were anything left in him. No jizz left, just tears, he thinks a little helplessly, maybe says, it would be just like him to say that aloud but Jared doesn't reply, just keeps pistoning his fingers steadily.

Richard steels himself as best he can, takes a deep breath, and vocalizes what he's been thinking for what seems like hours now, hours that Jared has been inside him: "Are you going to fuck me?"

"Do you want me to?" Jared asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"No," Richard says quickly. "Yes. Maybe."

"Next time," Jared says. Richard inhales sharply. Jared's fingers stroke over his prostate again, and his vision whites out.

Jared is still there when he comes to, sitting next to Richard, his hand stroking gently along Richard's bare thigh. The cuff of his shirt sleeve is a little starchy against Richard's skin. He's still dressed, Richard hadn't even realized he was still dressed. Richard's still got a shirt shoved up his torso, a hoodie hanging half off his shoulders, but Jared is — Jared totally wrecked him while —

"Do you," he says awkwardly, "can I," and he reaches shakily out for Jared's crotch.

"Oh, no," Jared says. He sounds startled. "That's not necessary." He folds a hand over Richard's, suspending it in midair. He squeezes their hands together. 

"But," Richard says, and he doesn't say anything else because Jared leans over to kiss him softly, the slowest brush of their lips. Their hands come to rest on Richard's thigh.

They're laying down before he realizes it, hands still joined between them, his head somehow on Jared's shoulder. The fleece is soft beneath his cheek.

"That was amazing," Jared says, as though Richard had done anything at all.

"Jared …" Richard starts, unsure, but Jared's thumb rubs over the back of his hand and he trails off.

"Honestly, Richard. Have you ever watched yourself while you masturbate? You have a very expressive face."

Richard blinks slowly, stares up at the ceiling. "Um," he manages.

"Also," Jared adds, "you should find a better place for your lotion than under your pillow. It's bound to fall off the bed there, or squeeze out all over your sheets. Although, it did come in handy."

He squeezes Richard's hand and then lets go; Richard's fingers flex, grasping at nothing as Jared pushes himself upward. Richard scrambles to sit up, too, but Jared is so tall he barely needs the ladder, is already down on the ground.

"Wait," he says. He's not — not exactly sure what he means to say: let me touch you, or let me see you touch yourself, or come back and hold me. In the end he doesn't say anything, and the way Jared is smiling at him is not unkind.

"Let's table this for the night," Jared says, matter-of-fact, and Richard almost laughs; the noise he lets out instead is choked, strangled in his throat. "I'll see you in the morning, Richard."

Richard blinks, and the door opens, momentarily flooding his room with light. He blinks again, startled, and the door closes.

Jared is gone.

Richard stares at the closed door. Slowly, he shrugs his hoodie off and lets it drop to the floor, and after a moment he pulls his t-shirt off, too; it feels less stupid to go to sleep naked than in just a shirt.

He lays back down. He looks up at the ceiling, closes his eyes, opens them again. He'd just — he and Jared just — he hadn't even known it was _possible_ for him to come that many times.

He pulls the thin sheet up over himself, curls up under it, closes his eyes. In the morning, Jared said. He doesn't — Richard has no idea, no idea if that means for a business meeting or for playing footsie under the kitchen table as they both eat cereal, or if Jared means to sneak back in at five am and ravish him again. Or maybe they'll never talk about it. Maybe Jared will leave: leave the hostel, leave Pied Piper. Leave him.

In the morning, though. 

Richard shifts, pulls his pillow out from under his head and wraps his arms around it. He realizes acutely how pathetic this looks as he nuzzles into it, but fuck it, no one's here to see him.

Fuck.

In the morning. He'll see Jared, and they can — whatever. Something. He'll figure it out. He's good at that.

**Author's Note:**

> dubcon info: richard is 100% into it, but he's not in a good emotional place. also, jared basically at no point ever tells richard what he's about to do to him, sexually. at one point richard tells jared to stop and jared does not immediately comply.
> 
> anyway you can find me [on tumblr](http://robokittens.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


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